


Like Grey Butterflies

by karmula



Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Backstory, Character Study, F/F, Femslash, Game Spoilers, Gen, Implied Femslash, Internalized Homophobia, Lesbian Character, Pre-Canon, Sam/Josh Washington mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-29 08:02:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5120930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karmula/pseuds/karmula
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam seeks closure, but she's never been good at goodbyes. And this one in particular hurts like a bitch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Grey Butterflies

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters portrayed, nor do I claim to. All rights go to the creators of Until Dawn.

 

Fresh snow crunched beneath Sam’s boots as she strode through the cemetery, winding her way through the headstones with her head bowed against the bitter breeze. The snow was thin, still falling in small flurries from a suffocating sky, but insistent; winter was coming, and fast.

Beth hadn’t even wanted to be buried. She had wanted to be cremated, her flesh and bones turned to ash and tossed into the sea or the sky, fluttering like grey butterflies until they settled on all four corners of the earth. She’d wanted to be as lively and free-spirited in death as she had been in life, not tied down by anything, and _certainly_ not trapped in a hard, unforgiving box six feet under.

But Hannah – Hannah had wanted this. Well, maybe not _this_ – _Who could ever want this?_ – but something like this, at the end of a much longer and more fruitful life. She’d wanted something permanent, a site she could claim as hers when she was no longer around to claim anything. A place where people could come to remember her, something tangible, something you could touch. Thinking back on it now, maybe that was indicative of an insecurity Sam had only been vaguely aware of when Hannah was still here. Maybe she had wanted something for people to remember her by when she was gone so desperately because that had been her greatest fear: not being remembered. Not being anyone of significance, of importance.

_But she was important to me._

Two headstones, larger and grander than the others, loomed up in front of her – twin headstones for twin sisters – and Sam was falling to her knees. Snow had piled in gentle drifts around their base, but the inscriptions on each remained unobscured; Beth on the left, Hannah on the right, and sitting atop each of their names, like a crown, a butterfly, its wings spread in flight.

Sam had loved both the twins, but she had really only come here to talk to one.

“Hey, Hannah,” Sam said, tucking her legs beneath her as she settled onto the ground. “I miss you.” She laughed, joyless and bitter. “But if you’re actually still around somewhere to hear me say that, you probably already know.”

Deep breath in. “Josh invited us back up to the cabin. I wasn’t going to go, but I think I’ve changed my mind.” Sam shrugged her pack off her back, rummaging through it as she spoke. “I thought it would hurt too much – and I still think it’s going to hurt – but I also think that I don’t really have a choice. I have to be there. For Josh, you know? We’ve become so much closer, ever since… Well, you know.”

Her searching fingers finally closed around a small, square package, about the size of her palm, and she fished it out of the pack triumphantly.

“And the more I think about it, the more I think it’s probably a good idea, you know?” she continued, unwinding string from the parcel. “I think it’ll be good to… to make peace. Maybe help us all get a little bit of closure.”

She unfolded the brown paper with fingers clumsy with cold, and something shiny slithered into her lap, flashing under the cold sun, low in the sky.

“Anyway, I brought you something.”

It suddenly occurred to Sam as she picked up the objects in her lap that these graves were empty, that she was talking to an inanimate stone slab and an empty coffin. She already knew this, knew that technically the sisters were still missing and not dead, that their bodies had yet to be recovered. This ceremony had been nothing more than the Washington parents’ own way of trying to find closure, really, and that closure was just an illusion. At the time, Sam had been resentful ( _fucking pissed, more like_ ); she had still had hope that the twins could be found, and it felt as if their parents were just… giving up.

And now, she was buying right back into it. Acting like Hannah and Beth’s disappearances were solved tragedies of the past, events that could be looked back on with sadness, sure, but with sadness only, rather than with the anger, the _frustration_ that came with the fact that their deaths were still a complete mystery.

_What other choice do I have?_

“It’s… a locket. Just like the one you used to have…” ( _Might still have._ ) “Except that it has a picture of you and me in it, and on the other side it has another picture, one of all of us this time, instead of an inscription.”

Sam dangled the locket from her fingertips, watching it sway slowly on its chain. It was so highly polished she could see her reflection in it, slightly distorted by the curve of the metal. Her beanie-hat looked almost comically large, stray hair falling out of it to frame her pink cheeks, bitten by cold. Her eyes swam, green and glassy. Hannah had always said how much she loved Sam’s eyes.

The locket really was beautiful, but truth be told, she didn’t know if it was just like the one Hannah used to have, because she couldn’t remember. Couldn’t remember if Hannah’s had been silver or gold, or perhaps brass, or if the chain had been fine or thick. She couldn’t remember if the heart had been small or large, or how it had looked against the smooth canvas of Hannah’s skin – things she had used to dream about with perfect precision. Little details like that had slipped away every day Hannah had been gone, and trying to hold onto them was like trying to hold onto a handful of sand.

She lay the gift out on the snow at the foot of the headstone, and picked up the next one.

“This one’s kind of… It’s stupid, really.” Sam flipped the Hallmark card around in her fingers, showing it to the headstone for a few seconds before turning it back over so she could read the inside. “We always joked about Hallmark having a card for everything, but apparently there’s no card for ‘I’m sorry I didn’t try harder to shut down their _stupid_ fucking prank, I had no idea it would get you – I mean, I had no idea what would happen’.” Same broke off, her face crumpling for a moment before she regained her composure. “That’s pretty much what I wrote on the inside, and I taped a Reese’s cup underneath my signature. You always liked those.” Sam propped the card up against the headstone, pressing it into the snow so the wind couldn’t tip it over.

She moved onto her last gift: a black-and-white polaroid picture, a little creased around the edges after its time beneath Sam’s pillow. Hannah was looking directly into the camera, frozen mid-laugh, and Sam’s hand was curved against her cheek, cradling her face, with Hannah’s fingers clasped on top. Sam had always said you could see the stars in Hannah’s eyes in this picture, and it was true – granted, Sam couldn’t remember everything, not anymore, but she was sure this was the happiest she’d ever seen her.

“And… this. It’s my favourite photo of us. I mean, I’m not even really in it – but I like to think that I was what made you so happy.” Sam made as if to lay the photograph on the snow, but something held her back. Her fingers gripped the polaroid tightly, tears beginning to prick at her eyes.

Still staring at the picture, she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, her numb fingers feeling like someone else’s as they brushed against the pink shell of her ear. The sensation, foreign to her for a year now, made her heart jump in her chest, made her breath catch in her throat.

 

* * *

 

 

_“Look, I really care about you. I do, Sam. But –”_

_“But what, Hannah? Some meat-head jock – who’s in a relationship, and with one of our_ friends _, by the way! – pays attention to you for two seconds and suddenly I’m nothing? Suddenly I don’t matter anymore?” Sam pushed Hannah’s hand, which was making as if to caress her cheek or tuck away a stray lock of hair, away with uncharacteristic fury, angry tears staining her cheeks._

 _“It’s not that! I_ like _Mike, and he likes me too, not Emily, I just know it. And I don’t – I don’t think this is going to work out with us, not like this –”_

_“Why?” Sam demanded. “Why? Because you’re ashamed of me? Is that it, Hannah?”_

_“Because I’m not a fucking lesbian!” Hannah shrieked. Sam went still. “Because I’m sick of walking down the halls holding hands with you and having people whisper about me behind my back, because I’m sick of being called a dyke, because I just want to be fucking normal!” The twin broke off, breathing heavily, eyes wide and almost_ frenzied _in their intensity._

_The blonde took a step back, reeling as if she had been punched in the gut. Her hand flew to her chest, grasping as if at her heart before falling back to her side, limp. “Fine,” she spat, before turning on her heel and fleeing from the room._

_Hannah pulled Mike’s note out of her jeans’ pocket, studying his message for the fiftieth time with filmy eyes. This was her chance – her chance to be liked, to be as popular as Jessica or Emily, to get the guy. She wasn’t going to let_ anybody _fuck it up._

 

* * *

 

 

Sam shook the memory away, squeezing her eyes shut as the tears began to spill out.

“I know you probably can’t hear me, but… I forgive you.”

But there was still a part of her that wondered, maybe if she hadn’t put her heart on the line, there’d be nothing to forgive. If she hadn’t tried so damn hard, if she had been one of those _normal_ people Hannah always talked about, if she had just cared less… Maybe, if she had done all of those things, she would have tried a little harder to talk the others’ out of their stupid prank. But she hadn’t.

So many choices she had been proud of, or at least satisfied with, at the time – telling Hannah how she felt, leaning in for their first kiss, agreeing to keep their relationship a secret rather than reassuring Hannah there was nothing to be ashamed of – had in fact put her on the path that led to _this_. How could she be sure of anything anymore?

Sam looked back down at the photograph, pressed a quick kiss to its surface, then ripped it in half. “I’m sorry. I just can’t make the same mistake twice.” She ripped it in half, then in half again, tearing at it over and over until there was nothing left but a handful of grey shreds. Apology made, gift officially redacted, mission accomplished.

There was nothing left for her to cling to but her memories, and those were already slipping away.

She tossed them to the wind, sitting for a moment longer as she watched them swirl up high on the breeze, fluttering like grey butterflies. Then they were lost in the snow, falling more heavily now, and had disappeared from sight.

Sam slid one backpack strap over her shoulder, stood up, and walked away.

She didn’t look back.


End file.
